


After The Affair

by onlyfortheboysintheband



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: M/M, milex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyfortheboysintheband/pseuds/onlyfortheboysintheband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CO-WRITTEN WITH HANNAH ( http://ezzieforprezzie.tumblr.com )</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Affair

It had been eight in the evening the last time Alex looked at the clock on the wall opposite to him. He was sitting on a sofa in his living room surrounded by sheets of paper and a few pencils, as well as a compulsory bottle of whiskey. He had his acoustic guitar in his lap, lightly strumming some chords and once in a while looking over at the paper closest to his leg, which had a couple of lines of text written on it. Suddenly, his fingers strummed the wrong string and the guitar shrieked as if to warn him to take a break. He put the instrument away with a sigh and sat all the way back into the sofa, almost trying to disappear in the pile of pillows that enveloped him. He pressed his palms over his eyes in frustration until the black colour behind his eyelids was replaced by white.

He’d just got back from touring a few weeks ago and there were still signs of the fact present in his apartment. He had always been very quick to pack for trips, but it took him excruciatingly long to unpack. If it had been an Arctic Monkey’s tour, he’d come back home ready to start working on new songs for the new record. Alex had always enjoyed being in the studio more than being on tour, he liked to be secluded. But he’d come back from touring with his new side project which had become his priority the last year or so, not just because the album had been so successful, but because he got to share every moment of those hectic months writing, composing, singing, and travelling with his best friend- Miles.

Now he was back in his flat in central London, alone, with no one to talk to in the middle of the night when he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep like he used to do with Miles in France. He was left alone in his flat with his management pressuring him to start writing songs for the third album, which without Miles’ help sounded even worse than they looked on the paper. He’d got so accustomed to hours-long sessions of writing lyrics, playing guitars, and laughing with his best friend that everything he’d been trying to do since looked so forced in comparison. Miles would put his hand on Alex’s knee and tell him the new line he’d just written was amazing, then immediately start adding a few chords that matched the mood of the verse perfectly; he would shyly hand over his lyrics to Alex, apologising for his shit writing, but not knowing that Alex loved his metaphor-full lyrics to be anchored down with simple, straight forward ones that only Miles was able to provide him with. He missed that feeling of ease when they would finally step out onto the balcony for a smoke to clear their heads, but ended up going inside to continue before they’d even had a chance to finish their cigarettes because they enjoyed themselves so much.

For the first time since he’d started practicing with his band has Alex found composing music to be a chore. He picked up the half empty bottle of alcohol from the carpet and took a long sip. His insides were burning as he picked up his mobile phone from the coffee table in front of him. Alex opened his contacts and scrolled over until his thumb was hovering over the letter ‘M’. He typed in a short message before putting the phone away to focus on his poor lyrics again. It was eleven in the evening.

**_MILES’ POV_ **

It was a small bleak apartment. The walls were a boring white that gave the place an empty chilling feeling. It was the end of October and there was that general coldness that fell over London every year around that season. It was late evening. You couldn’t really call it night time yet. Although it was dark, it was too early for night time.

Miles glared at the suitcases next to his door. It had been 3 weeks since the tour ended. And yet, the bags remained, unopened, next to the front door. It had been a good tour. No… that’s an understatement. It had been the best time of Miles’ life. It didn’t really start with a tour.

It started with an idea. Between two friends. They had been friends for a while, and suddenly became closer when Miles collaborated with him on a song for his band. In between the madness and unsteady life on the road, came a very steady, solid idea. An album. As simple as that. They were both musicians, they were both singers, they both wrote songs. It seemed like the best thing to do. So to the surprise of everyone, they moved to France for a while to record this album. Miles never wanted to admit it, but it was brilliant. They both played to their strengths, Miles’ obviously superior guitar skills and the boy’s superior writing skills. Their voices were positioned perfectly in the songs, it was well produced, well written and it didn’t exactly compare to anything Miles has ever done.

He took the vinyl off the shelf. It was black and white with the picture of a girl in a shirt and knee socks. It read THE AGE OF THE UNDERSTATEMENT in bold red letters. He smiled. He needed to smile. The tour was small, too small. In the last three days Miles felt this horrible sinking feeling. He didn’t want it to end. But all things do.

The other boy, Alex, didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy to get back. Miles thought that it was probably because what he had to return to what was a great group of friends, a warm house and a new album to start working on. All Miles had, was a crumbling band and a cold, empty flat. It almost seemed unfair.

And just before he sat down his phone made an annoying sound. A text. Miles picked it up. The ID just said “Alex”. He quickly opened it. It just read “ _At home. Please come over_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find us both on Tumblr :) 
> 
> http://ezzieforprezzie.tumblr.com - Hannah
> 
> http://onlyfortheboysintheband.tumblr.com - Ema


End file.
